


all the man that i need

by challa (inflouence)



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fluff, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Prince!Bucky, Romanian Bucky Barnes, also asgard is european, and thor is a king while t'challa is still a prince, panthor, panthor rights, peggy was only mentioned once sorry, prince bucky, so some references may not make sense oops but it's okay, steve is the united states ambassador, this is just an outtake for my royals au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 02:45:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15876876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inflouence/pseuds/challa
Summary: Steve knew. Well, everyone knew. But Steve had known, since the very beginning of the whole ordeal, that he was the odd one out.





	all the man that i need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mind_boggling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mind_boggling/gifts).



> this is for liv. i finally wrote something that i promised.
> 
> if you haven't read my royals twitter au, this may be a little confusing.

Steve knew. Well, everyone knew. But Steve had _known_ , since the very beginning of the whole ordeal, that he was the odd one out. That, whenever he was pictured with the man he called his boyfriend, or was in the same room as the people he called his friends, he was different. Unimportant. Dispensable. It wasn’t anything to cry himself to sleep about. Compared to Bucky, Thor, T’Challa—hell, sometimes even Natasha and Clint—he just wasn’t anything very special.

It didn’t matter to him. Really, it didn’t.

It was just that sometimes it was really hard trying not to…notice things. Things such as the stark contrast between Bucky, sitting straight, calm, powerful—as opposed to Steve, who would never really grow accustomed to such formal events, no matter the number he’d attended before. Times when Steve caught himself gazing at Prince James Buchanan Barnes III of Romania. These times were when Steve _knew_ —one of these things is not like the other. But then there were the other times, the ones he really appreciated, when the two would sit together, curled up on a sofa, and the head laying on his chest breathing evenly as he dozed off belonged to Bucky, his Bucky, not the Prince. And Steve knew that too, knew both, but knew his Bucky better.

Well at least, he thought he did.

“You’re kidding,” Sam said, letting out a hearty laugh. “Oh man, Steve.”

“What?” Steve could feel his face going red. “It never occured to me to ask when Bucky’s birthday was.”

“It’s a quick Google search.” Sam raised an eyebrow. “And it’s next month.” He gestured to the plate on the table. “How’s the sauce? I tried something new.”

Steve groaned, pushing the food around with his fork. “I am the worst boyfriend ever, aren’t I? Could use something. Oregano maybe?”

“Oregano, right.” Sam snapped his fingers. “But yes, you’re officially the worst boyfriend ever.”

“But he hasn’t even mentioned it yet. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want me to know. I mean, we’ve been dating for months now, and I’m pretty sure he knows my entire life story. Is that garlic? I love it.”

“Just a hint of garlic, gives it a nice kick. They always throw this fancy ass celebration at the palace, invite hundreds of people. Usually we’d be hearing about it by now which is why I asked you.”

“Hmm.” Steve hummed and pushed his now empty place away from him. “Let me guess, you want to cater.”

“It’s my dream,” Sam grinned toothily. “But you’re no help.”

“No, I’m not,” Steve shook his head with a smile. “Now I feel bad. You know, I’ll never get used to all this stuff. We went to a charity event a couple of weeks back and I’m clueless on how he does it. I thought being at Peggy’s side was bad enough, but being at the side of royalty is definitely ten times worse.”

Sam gestured to one of his waiters, mouthing off directions to him and requesting another dish for Steve to try. “Is it hard? Keeping up.”

“Well,” Steve let out a frustrated breath. “He’s busy. But so am I, so if he’s not out of the country or attending to his other duties, we barely get much time together. It’s not enough.”

“Of course not.” Sam nodded in understanding. The waiter returned, carefully placing another plate between the two. “Chicken marsala over white rice.”

“At this rate I’ll be too full to make it home,” Steve joked. “Yeah, it’s not enough time, but we’re making it work. We have to.” He reached for his fork, but paused. “What the hell do you get a Prince for his birthday?”

“Dude,” Sam scoffed, “It’s not about money with them. It has to come from—” He patted the area over his heart. “—here.”

 

 

The heart. Okay. Steve could do that.

The next morning Steve had a meeting filled with irritating individuals and returned to his office with several messages concerning an issue that required his immediate attention. After doing the best he could, Fury called asking for a different report as soon as possible. Steve scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face once he dropped the call, impossibly close to locking himself in his office before his assistant could enter with another heavy task, when his phone rang with a message. Something changed in his entire demeanor when he read Bucky’s request to meet for lunch. So, he wasn’t busy—some good news.

When Steve entered the Palace gardens Bucky was already sat on the grass, two meals wrapped up in front of him, his hair blowing slightly in the light breeze.

“How much time?” He asked in lieu of a greeting.

“About an hour, give or take,” Steve answered, dropping down and letting out a sigh of relief. “What’s today?”

“Sandwiches from this cool food truck I found yesterday,” said Bucky. “I’ve got about an hour, too.”

“Good.” Steve grabbed for his lunch and unwrapped the paper. He took a large bite. “This is delicious.”

The two chatted and laughed while they ate. It had become their thing, this ritual of scraping time to see each other, working carefully around their schedules. Following the whole Incident™ (as they had opted to call it), Bucky had taken on more responsibilities with the knowledge that one day he too would be King, while Steve was busy trying to help maintain United States and Romanian relations.

Another thing Steve knew was how much Bucky disliked being a Prince, and though His Highness would never breathe a word about it to anyone, Steve made sure to try to give him the experiences that he could never have otherwise: sneaking around in disguises to places like lunch trucks and bowling alleys, sharing greasy meals in Steve’s bed with Netflix in the background, going on runs at the crack of dawn where no one could find them. These experiences were theirs, something they shared more valuable than any tangible item Steve could ever give the Prince.

“Buck,” Steve called softly, once they’d both finished eating.

“Mhm?” Bucky didn’t look up as he collected their trash.

“You didn’t tell me your birthday was coming up.”

Bucky paused. “It slipped my mind.”

“Did it?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “I want to know these things, despite Sam thinking I could’ve just Googled it. I want to hear them from you, not the internet.”

“It just isn’t a big deal.” The Prince shrugged. He rolled over onto his back, turning to look at his boyfriend. “The whole country celebrates it...it’s almost like it isn’t my birthday anymore, just another excuse to bring a bunch of rich important people to the Palace.”

“So don’t make it that way,” Steve suggested.

“It’s okay.” Bucky grabbed for Steve’s hand, pulling him down so he was also lying on the perfectly manicured lawn. “I’ll suffer through it another year. You’ll be there, right? I need you by my side.”

“Of course I’ll be there,” Steve said, but couldn’t hide his frown. “You can’t—”

“I can’t cancel, no.” Bucky gave a soft smile. “Don’t worry too much about it, Stevie.”

Steve was silent for a few moments, just watching Bucky gaze up at the sky. He looked calm, in a state of peacefulness that hadn’t been seen in a long time, after everything that had happened.

“You ever miss how things used to be for you?” Bucky asked, in a low voice. “Before?”

“Every day,” Steve breathed. “I always wonder where things went wrong.”

“Where things went wrong…” The Prince let his words trail off. Steve thought he would finish his sentence but the ending never came.

 

 

It’s when they were standing in an art gallery, staring at a piece of medieval art hanging on the wall with their heads cocked to the side, that Steve realized.

“Huh,” Bucky chuckled, “It’s really something, isn’t it?”

Steve hummed in agreement. Before Bucky could say another word concerning the artwork, his phone sounded with a notification. His face fell when his eyes trailed across the screen.  

“Shit,” he muttered. “Gimme a sec,” and then he left the room.

Steve looked after him for a moment and then turned back, left alone with only the mural painting as company. The image was of Lady Roxanda, depicted with a golden crown in Byzantine attire. The description of the work claimed that she was meant to be standing opposite her husband yet that portion was missing. The princess was incomplete; she was merely a fragment of a bigger picture.

“Sorry,” Bucky sighed as he returned, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He stood beside Steve, slouched slightly.

Steve gently grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. “What’s wrong?”

“Missed a call,” Bucky responded after a beat. “It was Thor. Couldn’t reach him.”

Then, Steve knew.

 

 

It was hard for a couple of days, to make the time to see each other. Lunch was inconvenient, dinners were late, mornings were rushed. They were busy. Although Steve was already preoccupied with his actual job, he still had to make time for Bucky, even when they couldn’t see each other.

Picking a date was the hardest part. Food was already a given, and the venue was easily Steve’s house. All he needed were guests, but when the guests were Very Important People (read: not like Steve), it made things much, much more difficult.

“Ask Sam to make those tacos like he did that one time,” Natasha suggested, taking a sip from her water glass.

“You hear that?” Steve called behind the counter. “The Prince still likes your tacos.”

“He’d be crazy not to,” Sam responded with a smirk.

Steve was absolutely convinced that Sam’s restaurant was his second home, because if he wasn’t at the embassy or his own house, he was sitting in the corner of the Falcon restaurant distracting the chef.

“How many people am I cooking for?” Sam continued.

Clint spoke up, “Well, there’s the Princes, the King...and then Steve.”

Natasha began cackling. “Clint, you fucker,” she said through laughter, “That gets me every time.”

“I hate you so much,” Steve groaned.

“Stop making him feel inferior!” Natasha spoke up again, yet she was still nearly crying of laughter.

“What am I supposed to say?” Clint feigned innocence.

“Maybe our names,” said Steve.

“Prince James, Prince T’Challa, King Thor...Steve?”

“Just let it go,” Natasha came forward, patting Steve’s shoulder as she passed. “He won’t change. He thinks he’s so funny.”

Steve sent her an unimpressed look. “But so do you.”

“Up for debate,” Nat replied.

Steve rolled his eyes but then turned back to Sam. “Yeah, that’s it, besides these two. It’s a small thing. Oh, and feel free to include yourself and invite Rhodey, too.”

Sam nodded. “Got it. Any dessert requests?”

Natasha began rattling off something that sounded like a pre-prepared list and Sam listened intently. Steve tapped his fingers on the table absentmindedly.

“How the hell are you going to get these busy people in the same place, at the same time?” Clint looked unsure. “Seems sort of impossible.”

Clint, even though Steve hated to admit it, was right. It would be damn near impossible. But he had to do it.

 

 

“Steve,” Thor answered on the second ring. “Long time no see. How are you?”

“I’m great, thanks for asking.” Steve smiled. “How are things with you?”

“Doing the best I can. Anything I can do for you?”

“Yeah there’s something, but not for me.” As he spoke of his plans, Thor stayed silent. Steve was afraid that he wouldn’t get the response he wanted so he tried not to get his hopes up. He knew out of all of them Thor was the busiest, the one with the most on his plate, with the least amount of time to spare. As badly as Steve wanted to pull this off, he couldn’t force the King to do anything if it meant making Asgard suffer.

“You’ve really thought this through, huh,” Thor said once Steve had finished. “I don’t think anyone besides Challa and I have put this much effort into Bucky’s birthday.”

“I wanted to,” Steve responded quickly.

Thor hummed. “I’m available on the Saturday before his birthday. I’ll fly down there. Thank you for calling, Steve.”

Surprisingly, Thor was the easier one of the two phone calls. T’Challa picked up tired, and Steve instantly regretted disturbing him, but the Prince apologized—he shouldn’t be the one apologizing, Steve thought.

“Of course I’ll come.” Steve could hear the smile in T’Challa’s voice. “How is he?”

“He’s trying his best.” Steve took the call outside, standing on the balcony, staring at the rest of Bucharest before him. For a moment he thought of what it would be like, as Prince James Buchanan Barnes III, looking over that same balcony and knowing that what was down there would one day be yours to lead, having that weight on your shoulders. “I just think he really needs to spend this time with the people closest to him, like…” Steve couldn’t find the proper words to finish his thought.

“You ever just—” He tried again. “Sometimes I feel like I’m not enough.”

T’Challa paused before speaking. “I think you’re all he needs, really.” Another pause. “It used to be just him. Now he has someone…I think—I think you believe that you can’t fill what’s missing when we’re not there. There’s a space Bucky needs filled but it’s different, it’s a different puzzle piece than ours. This one’s yours. It’s not the same. All our lives we’ve lived like this, Steve. We know that it’s not possible for the three of us to get the time we need. But you’re there.”

“I’m here,” Steve repeated. He traced the designs on the railing. “It must be hard for you, without Thor,” he said quieter.

“Not everyone’s significant other is just a car drive away.” T’Challa was back to sounding tired. “But this isn’t the time for us to feel bad for each other, Steve.”

After the phone call ended, Steve stayed on the balcony, hands gripping the railing tightly. His mind was stuck on T’Challa words about missing pieces and a certain painting of Lady Roxanda.

 

 

The Saturday before Bucky’s birthday Bucky was, of course, busy. His text messages apologizing for things he should not be apologizing for kept pouring in as Steve sat, waiting in his living room.

“I could marry you right now,” Nastasha sighed deeply as she bit into a truffle. “Seriously, Sam. I’ll do it.”

“Um,” Rhodey said, appearing to be very uncomfortable with the idea.

“No marriage proposals here,” Clint snorted. “At least, not yet.” He gave Steve a pointed look.

“Yeah, can’t wait for Steve to become the Princess of Romania.” Thor laughed at his own joke.

Natasha reached for another dessert. “He’s already a royal by association, isn’t he?”

Steve grimaced. “That doesn’t mean you monitor my phone like you do Buck’s, right?”

“Shh,” Natasha hushed. “It’s better for everyone if you believe I don’t.”

A witty retort died on Steve’s lips at the sound of a heavy knock on his door. The group turned towards it in unison.

“Bucky?” Sam asked.

Steve checked his phone. “No, he only just got out of his meeting.”

“Must be Challa then,” Thor said, standing up and smoothing his clothes. “I’ve got it.”

Clint continued the conversation, changing the topic to some other amusing situation that had happened at the SRI but Steve was distracted, watching Thor open the front door after checking who was outside. Everyone else quickly became engrossed in whatever was being said, yet Thor and T’Challa paid no attention, meeting each other with wide grins. Steve had no idea when the last time they’d seen each other in person had been but he figured that any time apart was too long. T’Challa held Thor’s face lightly between his hands, saying something lowly, something only for them, and then Steve turned away, sensing that he was intruding.

“So anyway, that was the time Nat and I saw His Highness’ nudes,” Clint finished up.

Steve sighed, for Bucky’s sake. “You two will _never_ get tired of that story.”

“It’s fucking hilarious,” Sam said, wiping false tears from his eyes. “It gets me every time.”

“Don’t laugh too soon,” Steve raised an eyebrow. “They monitor all of Romania. How do you know they haven’t seen yours?”

Sam sobered up quickly. “Have they seen yours?”

“Yeah, have we?” Natasha said ominously, leaving for the dining room. “Wow, this food is hitting the spot.”

When Thor and T’Challa rejoined everyone else, Steve was practically yelling for Natasha to return and explain herself. These were times that were rare, everyone together in one place, able to have such a good time. Just one thing was missing.

Moments later, they heard a key turning in the lock.

“He has a key, huh,” T’Challa commented.

“Yeah?” Steve was confused. “Wouldn’t you give Thor a key?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna give Thor a key to the palace.” T’Challa said sarcastically, pursing his lips. “You hear yourself sometimes?”

Bucky swung the door open, letting out a loud groan. “The day I just had, I swear. I need a shower and a burger—” He shut up quickly when he saw the array of people before him. “Holy shit.”

“Happy birthday?” Thor said, waving a couple fingers in greeting.

“It’s not my birthday yet,” Bucky breathed, but he came forward and grabbed for his two friends, wrapping them into a hug. “Am I happy to see you guys, fuck.”

Steve smiled and turned away for a moment. He stood in the center of his living room, watching Sam talk to Rhodey and Natasha saying something to Clint, and he saw that it was good. Steve was no King or Prince, no intelligence agent or celebrity chef—Steve Rogers was a puzzle piece, part of a bigger picture, a bigger painting. No material object could ever amount to the real gift he wanted to give his Bucky, a gathering of the people he appreciated the most, not a garden of hundreds of rich people.

Later that evening, when everyone was elsewhere, Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled the other man towards himself, giving him a crooked smile. “You did this,” he said, not a question.

“For you,” Steve replied.

“What would I ever do without you?”

“Probably die.”

“Dodged a bullet with you once before,” Bucky joked. “I love you. I do.”

“I know,” Steve said, and it was true. He did know.

**Author's Note:**

> find me and my au on twitter @challathor


End file.
